


Not something serious?

by mag_writes_stuff



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Heavy Angst, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Insecure Jaskier | Dandelion, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Roach Ships It (The Witcher), Self-Destruction, Self-Harm, Self-Worth Issues, Suicidal Thoughts, Witchers Have Feelings (The Witcher), geralt x jaskier - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:14:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26788789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mag_writes_stuff/pseuds/mag_writes_stuff
Summary: In which Jaskier used bad coping skills to deal with his self-worth issues.Will Geralt find out? And if he does, will it be too late?
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 28
Kudos: 114





	1. in which geralt finds out because of scent

Fresh cuts oozed with his blood. Seeping from his skin and staining the leaves below him with red.

A dagger he had had for quite some time now clutched in his right hand. Fingers mindlessly tracing the designs on the hilt as he watched his life force seep out of him. 

It was trance like to just stare at it. Watching the blood rise to the surface before tracing a path down his arm like raindrops racing down a window. 

Did Jaskier know why he did it? Well...mostly. 

One could never quite pinpoint what exact emotion drew them to take action by inflicting damaging upon themselves, but the bard knew enough.

He knew he was not enough. 

And another one of the biggest reasons had to have been that he knew he was not wanted. Certainly not by Geralt, the witcher had made that perfectly clear. 

Insulting him, ignoring him, not very fond of his musical accompaniment to their travels. Geralt hadn't even tried to hide his displeasure at having the bard along with him.

But they had traveled together for so long, a decade or so already. Why would the witcher put up with him for that long if he didnt enjoy his company at least a little bit. 

Jaskier knew that it would be no trouble for Geralt to just leave him one day with little notice. Wake up early, pack up his things, and disappear from the bard's life without a trace. 

Why hadn't he left already? Why hadn't he wandered off and abandoned Jaskier? Does he only stay because of the fame that Jaskier weaves with his songs? Is that the reason? Geralt just wants his stories morphed into ballads so that the coin flows easier? 

Maybe that's why Jaskier hadn't been sleeping very well anymore. Staying up and claiming to keep watch just to be sure that the Witcher wouldn't up and leave while Jaskier slept. 

Instead he slept whenever Geralt went out to fight monsters, but it was fitful. He could never get a good rest when he was so worried about the only person he cared about not coming back. 

To make matters worse, Jaskier was almost positive that Geralt had noticed something was a amiss. It could have been any number of things that made his suspicious. 

Perhaps that time that Jaskier stayed up for so long that when he finally fell asleep he slept for an entire day and all through the night without waking once. Geralt had not abandoned him then though, despite having the perfect opportunity to walk away and never come back while Jaskier was unconscious. That next morning, Jaskier had woken up to a wonderful smelling breakfast and a witcher who kept glancing at him when he thought the bard couldn't see. Geralt never asked about how he had slept that long or why. 

Another time, Geralt was off fighting a particularly horrifying mutant seagull. 

Jaskier was left behind in the town's tavern and inn as he usually was, for his own safety of course. But the past few days were difficult for reasons he could not even explain. He couldnt shake the feeling that Geralt was angry at him. Yet he also could not pinpoint what he had done to anger the witcher. 

He was even less sure of how he had come to be sitting on the room's soft bed with a shining dagger. He twisted it this way and that watching as it reflected light across the room.

And not knowing why, he held the dagger over his arm sideways. The sharpened edges of the short blade facing towards his skin. He stayed like that for just a moment. Considering what he was about to do. 

In another second the dagger was brought down until it was pressing into his skin just slightly and with a quick movement of his arm, it sliced across the middle of his forearm. 

Blood pinpricked to the surface instantly. And for a few seconds Jaskier's mind was blank as he watched it form a red line on his arm. 

Then it hit him. Like a horse had just kicked him in the stomach he was jolted back into reality. His gaze flickered between the dagger and his arm. As a drop of blood began to drip down his arm he jumped off the bed and rushed to his pack, rummaging quickly for a roll of bandage.

"Shit, shit, shit!"

He wrapped it around the wound and held it in place with a safety pin.

Why had he done that? 

Why had he done that?!

And then whilst wiping the blood off of his dagger he remembered something even worse. 

Geralt had an enhanced sense of smell. 

He would surely be able to notice and identity the smell of Jaskier's blood.

What was he going to do?

He could not let Geralt find out. How would he even explain the situation to him? If the witcher found out and questioned him, Jaskier would not be able to say anything. He could not even understand his actions himself!

He had to figure something out. 

Looking around the room, eyes searching each and every crevice for an answer. Which he found in way of chamomile. Jaskier always wore that to smell nice despite sometimes being outside for weeks on end. 

Would it be strong enough to mask the scent?

Maybe if he burned some candles as well? 

Blame it on the room starting to smell like Geralt does on the path?

If all fails he can just say he got a bad bloody nose while Geralt was gone? 

Hours passed. 

Candles burned.

Jaskier practically doused himself in Chaomile. 

________

When Geralt got back, he paused in the doorway. 

Confused by the number of overwhelming scents all intertwined in the air. 

Two candles were burning on opposite side of the room.

The window was cracked open. 

And the familiar smell of chaomile was coming off the bard in waves. 

Another smell lingered in the air. Coming from two places in the room. One from Jaskier and one from the bard's pack. It was something he'd smelled before but it was so faint underneath all the other smells he could not place it. 

He glanced at the bard, who barely looked up from his notebook and lute at his entrance. Composing another song, no doubt.

Geralt would never say it out loud, well he never said much out loud, but he enjoyed the bards songs. The bard's company as well. 

Something in his brain always nagged him about how witchers were supposed to be alone, but after the first year and a half of the bard following him everywhere he went, Geralt started to accept his presence. 

In the winter he took jobs in towns with inns to keep the human's temperature from dropping too low. 

He made sure that the bard was never placed into any direct danger. 

And when some pompous revenge seeking lord came charging after Jaskier for the bard's nights spent with the Lord's wife, Geralt was there to protect him. 

He could not imagine letting anything happen to the bard. He could easily imagine a life without the bard, which would be very similar to how before he met Jaskier, but it would be dull and Geralt knew that if the bard died or left him then he would always feel like something is missing. 

They had been traveling together for too long for Geralt to shield himself from the emotions that come with companionship. He did not show them of course, but it was something to be said that he could not even stop himself from feeling them. 

Witchers were molded and trained to not feel things for others. It was dangerous. 

Caring for others puts you into dangerous situations. 

Caring for others makes you do irrational things that could get you killed. 

It was something they were instructed to avoid.

Yet here was, a decade or so into traveling with Jaskier and he couldn't imagine any way he'd rather it be.

Stepping further into the room, pulling the thick wooden door shut behind him, he let his gaze travel over each square inchn. Looking around the room, inhaling deeply through his nose. That undetermined scent lurking just out of range of identification. He let it go for now, opting instead to go about his business until he either forget about it or finally figured out what it was.  
______  
It had been over three seasons since that day at the inn where Jaskier had first hurt himself in such a way. 

He had ignored Geralt's confused expressions and deep inhales as the witcher tried to place a smell. Jaskier knew it was his blood but since Geralt never confronted him he assumed that the candles and chaomile had worked.

Jaskier had cut a few more time after that but it had been months since the last time he'd done it. 

But this morning, he woke up and Geralt was gone. The witcher no where to be seen. His belongings gone and Roach along with him. 

It had finally happened, Geralt had finally decided to leave him. 

Jaskier waited for hours, hoping that the witcher would come back with some strange monster hung over his shoulder. But he never did. 

It was almost noon when the bard found himself watching his blood drip to the leaves. 

Cut after cut after cut until his left arm was covered in them. Barely a piece of skin that was unmarked by the red liquid. 

He didn't bother wrapping them. Didn't panic and bandage them before covering himself in chaomile. 

The witcher was not coming back so what was the point in going through all the trouble to hide it. 

He sat propped up against a tree. Legs splayed out in front him. Dagger loosely gripped in his hand as he continued to let his fingers glide over the engravings. 

What had he done to cause Geralt to leave so suddenly. He had actually been beginning to think that the witcher did not mind his presence. Perhaps that he even liked the bard. 

But now he was gone. No trace of him anywhere. No note telling him to meet him at the next town or to wait where he was. Geralt had just left him there... in the middle of the forest...alone. 

His eyes felt heavy.

The blood still running down his arm, slower than before. 

Jaskier did not know how long he had been sitting against the tree. But the sun was far in the sky now, already having begun it's descent. 

What was the point in getting up from the forest floor? 

He had no where to go. He had no one to be with. There was no place that he called home. 

What would he even do, just keep traveling by himself? He'd be dead within the month. In this part of the world, it was not friendly. And this was even more the fuel for his emotions. Not only had Geralt left him, but Geralt had abandoned him in a place he knew that Jaskier would never survive on his own.  
________

The days seemed to start earlier and end later.

Geralt was pulled from his sleep as footsteps crunching on fallen leaves grew closer to their campsite. 

He sat up slowly, letting his gaze fall to Jaskier for a moment, the bard was asleep. Geralt reached underneath his bed roll, pulling out a long dagger. 

From the position of the moon it was no more than three after midnight. 

The footsteps were close now, and Geralt could see the owner's shadow coming towards the small clearing with urgency. 

When the person finally broke through the treeline they skidded to a halt at the sight of the witcher standing up, staring at them, with a blade in his hand. Ready. 

Geralt could see now that person was not coming to attack them. 

Unarmed. 

And quite clearly a farmer of some sort. 

But he smelled of fear. Perhaps even terror.

The middle aged man glanced once at the sleeping form huddled underneath a pile of blankets, before Geralt sidestepped to block his view.

His eyes shot up to meet the yellow of the witcher's, not able to keep eye contact for more than a second. 

Keeping his voice quiet the farmer spoke, "There is a monster, Witcher. Large beast dragging people into an old bear cave. He took me own nephew not an hour ago." 

Geralt considered it. The man was certainly afraid. And his clothes looked in good shape considering his occupation, perhaps he was also the chieftain.

"Only hunts at night?" 

The farmer nodded, "Aye, no un' nabbed dur'in the day." 

From that little information, Geralt had a good idea of what it was. Cave dweller. Nocturnal. Large. Attacks humans instead of the field animals. 

"Where's this cave?" 

"Bout 'af hours ride from the town, Witcher."

"Hmm" Geralt grunted. 

He knew that if he didn't leave now the boy it had would surely die. 

He turned away from the farmer and began gathering his things. 

"Payment upon my return, and you'll lead me to the cave." 

"I'll pay ya gene'ously." 

Attaching the saddle bags to Roach, scribbling out a few sentences on a piece of parchment, and checking his sword once for any nicks in the silver. 

He turned to walk back over to Jaskier, who was still sound asleep. A good thing considering that Geralt could rarely convince the bard that he should rest and they didn't need a watch. The witcher did have enhanced senses and was a light sleeper after all. 

As he was approaching Jaskier the farmer too walked over and began bending down as if to shake the bard awake. 

"Aye, lad'll need to wake u-" 

The words caught in his throat as he was suddenly face to face with a very dangerous looking Witcher. The farmer's arm having been grabbed right before he could touch the bard. 

The voice that spoke perhaps even scarier than the black eyes that had replaced the normal yellow ones, "Do. not. wake. him. " 

Geralt practically growled at the man, fear dripping off the farmer who eyes wide, nodded. 

He let go of him and the man stumbled backwards. Geralt stooped to leave the note on the ground where he had been sleeping not ten minutes ago, securing it from the wind with a rock. 

Standing to full height once more, he let a glare be thrown towards the farmer before turning away. Grabbing Roach's lead he gestured for the man to show him the way to the monster.  
___________

He had been gone all day. 

Earlier that morning when the farmer came to get him, Geralt thought that he would be back before Jaskier woke up. He had been very wrong. 

The monster was exactly what he thought it would be, and the battle lasted no more than fifteen minutes. He even managed to save the man's nephew from being eaten alive.

But then another monster from deeper in the cave pounced on him. A violent fight between him and a ginormous spider.

All went to hell went the spider lunged at him and missed. Instead barreling into the wall at full speed.

It caused a cave in. 

Rocks tumbled down from above. 

The spider was crushed and Geralt only survived because of a potion he drank before battle.

That all transpired not two hours after he had followed the farmer away from the clearing.

When Geralt woke up he could see from cracks between the rocks blocking the exit that the sun was already shining. 

He tried to push the rocks out of the way, but it was to no avail.

Having no other way to go, Geralt decided to go deeper into the caves in search of another way out. 

It took him hours before he finally stood in the sunlight again. 

Thanking whatever deities exist that he somehow came out rather unscathed, he found Roach again and began the ride back to Jaskier immediately. He had already been given the coin due to him by the farmer after killing the first monster so there were no stops to make along the way.  
_________  
Finding his way back to clearing took little time, but as he was getting closer worry seeped in. It was quiet. Usually he always returned to Jaskier playing something on his lute or singing or even just talking to himself. 

In fact, Geralt had gotten onto the bard plenty times before about why he should not play when the witcher left. That it was dangerous and could attract enemies, but Jaskier never listened. 

And right now there was nothing. 

He urged Roach into a gentle canter, telling himself that Jaskier was probably just quietly composing or taking a nap. 

As Roach reached nearer to the clearing, Geralt smelled something. 

It was familiar, but in a bad way. It all clicked at the same time. This was the smell that he couldn't quite figure out when he and Jaskier were at the inn all those seasons ago, hidden underneath candles and chaomile. 

It was Jaskier's blood. 

Roach was galloping now, as quickly as she could go. 

They burst into the clearing. The horse stopping with an ease only a well seasoned veteran of the trail could have.

Geralt jumped off Roach and spun around. Eyes frantically searching for his bard. 

It didnt take long before he spotted Jaskier sitting against a tree. Eyes closed. 

The witcher approached Jaskier with caution, the smell of his blood getting stronger with each step. Despite his fear, Geralt forced himself to walk slowly, he didn't want to startle the bard who still hadn't noticed his presence. 

Kneeling in front of the bard, Geralt reached out to place a hand on his knee. The contact made Jaskier's eye shoot wide open and he almost sprang up from his sitting position. Only being stopped by Geralt's hands moving to his shoulders to keep him in place. 

"Hey, steady bard, steady. " 

Jaskier's breath was coming in short bursts. His eyes flicking around and Geralt could hear his heart beating wildly. The scent of blood couldn't hide the other scents wafting off the bard either. Fear, guilt, anxiety, and a few others. None good.

Geralt was looking into Jaskier's eyes, trying to decipher what was going on in his mind. 

He had scanned over the bard's body while he was approaching but wherever the injury was it was hidden. 

Jaskier started to speak, his words quiet and stuttering, " I...i.." 

He trailed off after a moment, so Geralt took the lead. 

Slowly and clearly speaking, "Jaskier, where are you hurt?" 

The features of the man in front of him morphed into a confused expression. Eyebrows furrowing, and gaze staring off into nothing for a second. Then his face changed once more as he seemed to remember. Eyes suddenly looking into Geralt's.

The already too quick heartbeat was racing even faster and the scent of anxiety grew to be the strongest. 

Jaskier's tongue shot out to wet his dry lips and he swallowed a few times before speaking, voice thick and hoarse, " I'm fi... fine." 

It was Geralt's turn now to look confused. He could obviously smell the blood and he had patched Jaskier up enough to know it was his. 

Why was he lying? 

"Why are you lying to me? I can smell it, Jaskier." 

The bard shook his head, eyes frantic. "No, no I'm not lying, Geralt. I'm not hurt." 

Geralt's hand moved to grip Jaskier by the arms. Starting to say more adamantly with an underlying growl to his voice, "Stop lyi-" 

As Geralt's hands closed around the bard's arm he stopped midword and froze. 

Still looking at Jaskier's face, Geralt had went still for two reasons. 

One, because as he gripped Jaskier's arm he saw the bard's face involuntarily contort as he winced in pain.

Second, because as his right hand clamped around Jaskier's left arm he could feel the blood through the thick cotton. 

As Jaskier's face returned to normal after wincing they held eye contact for what seemed like forever. Neither of them moved, blinked, or even breathed. 

Then, Geralt spurred into action. He sat back on his knees and took Jaskier's left arm into his hand. Ignoring the bards attempt at pulling away from him and squirming out of his grasp. Ignoring Jaskier telling him to leave it alone, that it was nothing, and to fuck off. 

He pulled the sleeve all the way up in one quick motion, his breath catching in his throat and his heart skipping a beat. 

He couldn't look away. 

Jaskier's arm was practically shredded with all the cuts that danced across his skin. His pale complection hidden by the blood that covered it. 

"Geralt." 

The witcher finally looked up at the bard, unable to ignore how weak and pained his voice sounded. 

He studied the man's face. The smell of anxiety had faded away, but now guilt was the strongest. 

"What happened?" 

His voice left no room for suggestion. Geralt needed to know how something like this could happen. Only two monsters popped into mind, but neither were ever seen in areas like this. 

Jaskier was trying to speak, but Geralt wasn't paying attention anymore. 

Having sat back on he knees to look at Jaskier's arm, Geralt had gotten a new vantage point, and something behind the bard caught his eye. 

Leaning forward, over the bard, and to the right, he saw it. His heart sinking as he picked it up. 

And hearing Jaskier's rejections as he saw and realised what Geralt had grabbed only confirmed his fear even more. 

"No, Geralt,," 

"Dont touch that,"

"Please,"

"It's not what it looks like."

A shiny short dagger, perfectly weighted, decorated with intricate designs...and covered in blood. He didn't have to smell it to know that the blood was Jaskier's.

And he already knew that it was the bard's dagger. It was one of the only weapons he had agreed to carrying. Geralt had gotten it for Jaskier himself, needing to know that the man would have the means to protect himself whether the witcher was there or not. 

His voice was deep and more witcher than it was Geralt. A rough undertone bringing a dangerous lilt to his words. 

Speaking slowly. Bringing his eyes back up to make contact with the bard's. 

"Jaskier." 

The man before him was pressing himself backwards against the tree.  
There was no where to run.

The bard's voice barely audible. 

"...yes, geralt?"

The witcher held up the dagger and wagged it in the air a few times. Then tapping the bard's forearm with a gentleness completely opposite to his threatening tone, "What the fuck did you do? "


	2. in which Geralt takes care of Jaskier

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have many ideas for the continuation of this story, but updates could be slow going. One of those situations where I have really great ideas for places that are ten or twenty something chapters away. 
> 
> And yet, the chapters that I need to write to get there are all still pretty blurry. 
> 
> Bear with me though and there is some great angst in our future!

_"Jaskier."_

_The man before him was pressing himself backwards against the tree._  
_There was no where to run._

_The bard's voice barely audible._

_"...yes, geralt?"_

_The witcher held up the dagger and wagged it in the air a few times. Then tapping the bard's forearm with a gentleness completely opposite to his threatening tone, "What the fuck did you do? "_

Jaskier did not know what to say.

There was no lying to a witcher.

Not when they can smell each emotion and hear the each beat of a man's heart.

He opened and closed his mouth trying to find the words. Trying to figure out how to explain that he thought Geralt hated him. How to explain in a way that would not make the witcher hate him even more. A way that would not make him think Jaskier was weak or pathetic for what he had done. After all, what kind of person is so realiant on others opinions and praise that they would rather be dead than merely unwanted.

He did not want Geralt to go down that path and realise that the time he lost allowing Jaskier to travel with him could be better spent. The last thing he wanted would be for the witcher to follow Jaskier's lead and stop caring whether he lived or died. 

The bard simply could not fathom a world where when he yelled for help that Geralt would not come running to save him. He did not want to live in a world where the songs he wrote were no longer based on the white wolf's adventures.

A life without Geralt, he realised, would never be the kind he of life he wanted to live.

Perhaps after too long of a pause, Jaskier spoke, his words barely audible.

"...i thought that you had finally abandoned me..."

The bard could not look at the witcher as he said those words. He could not bare to see Geralt's face as the witcher told him that he did indeed hate him. Could not bare to watch as Geralt walked away and never came back, even knowing that if he left now then the bard would surely die. He looked at the ground instead, desperately trying to keep the tears that rose to his eyes from spilling out.

Trying to maintain some shred of control, thinking that if the witcher saw him break any further, then he would deem him a lost cause. Someone so far from being saved that it held no sense in even attempting.

Geralt still held Jaskier's forearm in his right hand, the dagger in the other.

His voice partly to normal, quieter than before, just a hint of a growl lining his voice.

"what?"

Silence lingered for many moments, Jaskier searching for words and the witcher waiting for them.

Finally the bard began, whispering as if he did not really want Geralt to hear.

"...i woke up and you were gone. all of your stuff was gone...roach was gone...not even a note left behind... i thought you had left for good..."

The tears were falling freely now from the bard's eyes.

Emotion overwhelming him in such a way that it would be physically impossible to keep them from escaping. No matter how much he hated the witcher seeing him cry, he could not stop himself. Looking away became all he could do, that and pray to all the deities he did not believe in that he had not ruined his friendship with the witcher by letting him find out like this.

Geralt had gained a horrible feeling in his chest with each word Jaskier spoke. He felt like his heart had jumped up into his throat. As if any second now the contents of his stomach were going to come flying back up.

He could hardly comprehend it, that Jaskier actually thought he would just leave him like that. More so, Geralt realised, Jaskier thought that he would leave him here, in an unholy land that held dangers that could prove fatal even to a witcher.

Jaskier thought that he wanted him dead...

Had Geralt really been so emotionless around the bard that Jaskier did not understand how much he cared about him?

How much he would give if it meant that he could keep the bard's smile in his life?

Did Jaskier really not know that he would die for him?

At the sound of a raspy sob, Geralt realised that he needed to say something. Needed to interject before the bard devolved even more.

"I did leave a note."

Jaskier barely seemed to have heard him, but his face twisted in confusion.

"what?" His voice broken by hiccuping and sobs.

Geralt felt himself getting more frightened by the second, more concerned for Jaskier. The bard continuing to crumble right in front of his eyes and the witcher did not enjoy the feeling of powerlessness that sat like a heavy stone in the pit of his stomach.

Sure, he hated most feelings, but whatever he felt right now took the cake, becoming the one he hated the most.

"I did, I left a note for you telling you that I went to go take care of a creature. To wait for me to return... I even left it under rocks to make sure it didn't blow away before you could see it."

Jaskier shook his head, he had looked for a note and found nothing, "no.., no, no..you didn't, no, there wasn't any note.."

The bard's breathing only got more and more out of control. Taking in too short of a breath and letting out too little. Geralt could tell his heartbeat had only gotten higher, panic swirling around him like a tornado.

He needed to calm him down.

Making his voice come across as soft and as gentle as it could, "Alright, alright. It's okay bard, it does not matter now, but Jaskier I need you to breathe. "

Squeezing his arm just slightly in an uninjured area, he prompted the man to look at him. Trying to use his eyes to imbue some sense of calm on him.

A sense that he would be safe. A sense that when with Geralt, he would always be safe. A sense that he would always have a home on the trail with the witcher. A sense that he needn't worry about if the witcher enjoyed his presence, because the witcher's own mind was devoid of any doubts. He knew that he would never want a life without Jaskier, and he tried to pass that on. To show it with nothing else but his gaze.

As Jaskier attempted to slow down his breathing and get himself composed, Geralt's eyes found their way back to the cuts adorning the bard's arm. Too many of them, some still bleeding, and for who knows how long. It happened to be a small miracle that Jaskier remained conscious. 

He glanced at the dagger in his other hand. The dagger that he had given Jaskier. Something he gave the bard because he wanted him to be safe, almost his own way of saying that he cared for him. A show of love turned into something opposite, used by Jaskier against himself because he thought that the witcher wished him dead.

Setting the dagger down on the grass, trying not to dwell on how Jaskier's eyes followed the blade. Trying not to think about how he would have to leave the bard weapon less from now on. Unprotected from the world but also protected from himself. The witcher knew that the road ahead of them after today would be long. A road that they may never reach the end of.

Keeping Jaskier safe had always been a top priority, something he thought about each and every day. Now it would be different, he still had to keep Jaskier safe of course, but it meant that the bard being alone would be unacceptable and dangerous. He had to keep the man safe at all costs, losing him was not an option.

Taking the bard's injured arm with both hands, pausing momentarily to inspect the wounds. But there was a lot of blood, so much so that it surely hid most of the damage.

Looking back up at Jaskier, he let his gaze flicker over the bard's features. Sweat dotted his forehead. Tears slowly traced their way down his cheeks. Eyes were red from the whole ordeal.

"We have to clean these."

Geralt watched as Jaskier's eyes fell away from his own to look down at his arm. Staring at the cuts for a few instances. Looking at them like they were both the best and worst thing that had ever happened to him. The witcher wished he knew what thoughts were swirling around the bard's mind. If he knew what went on in Jaskier's brain then he could help. At the very least, he would know where to start.

But life did not work that way, not for the witcher and bard. Geralt could not read minds, and even if he could he would never cross such a boundary. He would only ever know as much as the bard let on.

Bringing his eyes back up to meet Geralt's, Jaskier nodded. His voice meek as he let out a quiet response, "...okay"

Holding the eye contact for just a few more moments, they looked at each other.

Geralt seeing Jaskier at presumably his worst. Injured, hurting, and more vunerable than ever. Searching for the answers as to why the bard would ever do such a thing to himself. Searching for the path away from here, the road that would lead them both to happier times.

Jaskier seeing Geralt through a strange and distorted lense. He scanned the witcher's features. From the way he had tucked his hair behind his ears, to his golden eyes staring into the depths of his soul, all the way to the way that Geralt's eyebrows were furrowed in some mix of what the bard figured were concern and confusion. Yet, he still struggled to see the witcher. Struggled to figure out how Geralt truly saw him.

Then, the moment ended. Geralt got up and disappeared from view. Jaskier tried to follow him with his gaze, but anything a foot away and farther was starting to blur together.

The effects of his own self injury catching up with him no doubt. If he had been feeling tired and sluggish before from mere lack of sleep, then now he felt ten times more exhausted. His eyelids getting heavier by the minute. Feeling farther and farther away from his body as time went on. The only way to explain it being as if a fog had just suddenly settled over his mind, shrouding everything in a thick impenetrable layer, keeping the gears from turning. His mind twisting into a state of delirium. Moments fading in and out and blending together.

Geralt came back in under a minute. Carrying two of the saddle bags usually attached to Roach. Getting back to the bard, he had to withhold the desire to react.

Jaskier's eyes had glazed over and were focusing on an empty patch of space to his left, head drooping as if the bard did not possess the strength to keep it up anymore.

Obviously Geralt's arrival earlier must have had been the only thing keeping this from happening sooner. The focus required to speak with the witcher somehow enough to keep the drowsiness caused by blood loss from seeping in.

He did not bother shaking the bard or trying to keep him conscious with conversation for any longer. His main concern placed in keeping Jaskier's heartrate as low as possible without it giving out. The faster his heart beat...the faster he would bleed. And with injuries such as this it did not cause enough damage for Geralt to worry about such things as Jaskier falling asleep and not being able to wake back up.

It was better this way anyways, if Jaskier zoned out or lost consciousness, then he would not be able to fight against any of the medical care he needed. As Geralt knew from experience, the last thing someone doing first aid needed would be having to wrestle or hold down the patient just to help them. Of course, the witcher had no doubts of his own strength, and he knew that holding down Jaskier would have been no trouble at all. However, it just made the entire process simpler when he could work on caring for the wounds and focus solely on that.

He rummaged through the saddle bags, grabbing little vials, wads of bandages, a needle and stitching thread, and other things he needed to take care of the bard.

Taking first in his hand, he held onto a hunting knife. Grasping Jaskier's arm gingerly once more, he unrolled the sleeve, found a spot about two inches beneath his shoulders, and worked through the fabric all the way around until it fell to ground. He knew that the bard would probably be mad at him for it later but the sleeve, having soaked up a good portion of his blood, had already become a lost cause.

Next, he reached for a flask filled with nothing but water. Moving Jaskier's arm until it went perpendicular away fron his body, he poured the liquid over the wounds, washing most of the blood off of the arm. Grabbing for a clean cloth besides him, Geralt began to scrub the congealed or dried blood off as gently as he could.

Finally able to see the cuts clearly for the first time, Geralt examined them with care. Eyes sweeping over each incision and determining what it would need to be taken care of. A good amount of them were just minor damage, practically scratches made as the blade moved quickly across the skin but did not press into it. A few of them were somewhere in the middle, not needing to be manually closed but still needing the pressure provided by bandages to heal. Alarming, most of them looked like they would need stitches. Sure, a lot of them could probably heal just fine with little damage, but the scars would be much worse if he did not close them. Then there were those that he had no choice but to stitch. Cuts deep enough that they were still bleeding, and Geralt figured that they would keep doing so until he dealt with them.

Strangely enough, Geralt found himself thankful. He thanked all deities that may or may not exist that Jaskier had not thought to cut an artery. If he had that, then the chance of him even coming back from the cave to find the bard alive were slime to none. And if there remained still a little bit of life in him yet at that point, it would still be hopeless. They were too far away from any elven settlements or great mages to get help, and nothing in his "Witchery Supplies", as Jaskier called them, would have been of any help.

So, he thanked the gods he had never believed in and prayed that this would be the last time he ever had to smell the bard's blood.

Working quickly to stitch together the skin, Geralt tried to ignore each time Jaskier winced. He hated being the source of the bard's pain but it was a necessary evil at the moment. Going from cut to cut he stanched the flow of blood at each, a few of them taking more stitches then he would have liked.

Pulling tight the last stitch, Geralt cut the thread with his knife. Taking one final moment to use the wet rag to clean off the blood that had fallen why he worked on closing the wounds. Wiping off the drying substance with care.

At this moment, still pushing the rag back and forth over the cuts with almost zero pressure, just enough to get the blood off, Geralt looked back up at Jaskier. The bard's head had gone slack, his chin resting on his chest, eyes closed while he slept, hair tumbling over his forehead and kissing the tips of his eyebrows just slightly.

The witcher could not think of a person more deserving of happiness. He could not think of anyone more beautiful, both on the inside and out. The years had passed with them traveling together and Geralt found it becoming harder and harder not to smile at the bard's gentle voice each time he sang. His heart felt so full some days it ended up backfiring on him. Instead of telling Jaskeir how much he cared, Geralt would get angry at himself for letting the bard get so close and take it out on the wrong person. Blaming the bard for being so damn magnetic. For flaunting about, singing each word that passed his lips, and getting him intoxicated on nothing but his voice alone.

Tearing his gaze away from the resting man, he found his way back to the task at hand. Fishing out a small container filled with cream, and applying it generously over the cuts. Completing the final step of card by tightly, but not tight enough to stop circulation or be uncomfortable, winding a bandage around his arm.

Covering up the cuts bringing Geralt some sense of peace, as if since he could not see them anymore then he could pretend they were really not there, that he would forget about how much pain Jaskier was in.

However, Geralt had been educated with the best of them, taught to ignore nothing. He could not just forget about this. He could not move on and act like he did not come back from a hunt to find the only person that mattered to him half dead. Most importantly, his heart felt like it had been severed in two. He felt like the giant spider from earlier had clawed out his heart and eaten it like it would a fly. For Geralt knew that he was the reason for Jaskier's pain. He knew that it was his own inability to communicate and be vunerable that allowed the bard to convince himself that the witcher would not mind his death. To think that his death would not make Geralt blink twice.

And the witcher knew that the only way to help Jaskier would be to accept that, yes, even he had feelings and to admit he had feelings for the bard. To admit that he cared. To admit that his constant singing became his only lifeline, the only thing that kept him tethered to this world.

He knew that the only way to dig Jaskier out of the hole he had fallen into would be to say things out loud for once.

No more could he simply acknowledge his feelings in his own mind and call the day done, he had to state them. To show them.

No more could he buy daggers as a way of telling the bard that he wanted him to stick around and be safe. Geralt had to just open his mouth for once and say what he meant to say before it was too late.

Before something like this happened again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave comments, i love talking to you guys and the motivation that comes from seeing your comments, which show that you guys actually enjoy what I'm writing and want to see what happens next as much as I do, well it is really helpful in speeding up the writing process since I'm more inclined to work on it! 
> 
> Any comments are welcome!
> 
> See a word I misspelled and really want to point it out, go for it.
> 
> Want to drop an alphabetized list of your theories for what happens next? Do it. 
> 
> Reeling over a particularly part of the story and need to rant about it? You can write as many paragraphs as you see fit! I'll read them all and respond accordingly!
> 
> Want to analyze the story so far and comment on Geralt and Jaskier's interactions and what you think they means? I would love to hear your thoughts!
> 
> You can type 3 words or you can type 3000, all comments are appreciated and encouraged!
> 
> In conclusion, your comments keep the story going by giving me motivation and sometimes even inspiration. 
> 
> So, please, stick around.


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